


The Stars After The War

by Silverskye13



Series: The Stairs to the Core (Grillster Stories) [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Comfort/Angst, Drinking & Talking, Drinking to Cope, Drunkenness, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Platonic Grillster - Freeform, Platonic Relationships, Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8680630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskye13/pseuds/Silverskye13
Summary: Grillby and Gaster celebrate another year underground. Which basically means they're getting drunk and wallowing in their own self pity. But... sometimes some good can come out of that. Especially when Grillby decides on finding a way to finally comfort his friend, if only a little.





	1. What We'll Never See

It was late, _very_ late. Or early, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Grillby preferred to see it as a late evening - after all, he hadn’t been to sleep yet. It didn’t count as early in the morning until Grillby was _waking up_ , he figured. So, it was late enough that the bar was closed and the patrons were gone. Early enough to be called morning, though Grillby was quite obviously in denial of that fact, and jaded enough from the alcohol he’d been drinking to not care too much either way. Grillby didn’t normally drink, really. He preferred mixing drinks to having them. But tonight was a special occasion, and he wasn’t drinking alone, so he figured for once he could indulge.

And he did. He indulged _a lot._

He and Gaster were slumped in one of Grillby’s recently washed booths, drinking carefully enough to not spill anything across the table but still brash enough to scuff and clink their glasses and fill the room with their miserable dissonance. This was a hard day. A _special_ day. Grillby had nearly closed his bar and not come into work, it was so special. Gaster _had_ called off work, in fact. But Grillby had decided, for once, he’d rather not pine the entire day away like he did every other year. This year, he’d dragged himself out of bed with the same grim determination he had once dragged himself out of his tent on the surface. He’d donned his bartender’s uniform just as solemnly as he would have his armor. He cleaned every glass with the care he could have put into tending his sword, his shield. He’d tried to stifle the tense ache in his chest, an ache that never seemed to completely dull away.

Grillby had walked through the snow to work, Gaster in step beside him, and neither of them spoke. They didn’t speak for most of the day. It was a bit too risky to speak on this particular day, not until enough of the misery had been dwelled in. Not until there were enough drinks to stifle inhibitions and dull judgement. Not until all the prying eyes were gone, the glares that watched and never completely understood, the gossip that hissed and whispered and spread.

Not until they had reached that hour in between days when the world seemed less real, and they themselves with it.

“Thirty years,” Gaster said, swirling his glass lazily in his hand and watching the ice break apart against the sides, “We’ve been stuck in this mess for thirty years.”

“Time flies,” Grillby replied noncommittally, taking a second to drain away the rest of his drink before pouring another. At this point he’d forgotten what he’d mixed in the tall bottle he was pouring from. All he knew was it tasted sour and strong, and burned his chest and buzzed his head. Every time he swallowed another drink his flame would cascade in a short burst of blues, and now he watched as the reflection of it glanced across the polished tabletop before it flickered out into yellows and oranges again.

“We’re going to die down here, aren’t we?”

Grillby shrugged, “As opposed to what? Being dusted up there?”

Gaster laughed, a half-hearted sound that wheezed in his ribs, and ushered in the elemental’s direction with his drink, “You make an excellent point. T’was a sight fuck’n prettier up there though.”

“You know what I miss?” Grillby asked, “I miss rain.”

Gaster spat another laugh, “You’re kidding. Don’t you still have nightmares about that shit?”

Grillby waved his hand dismissively, “ _Gods_ yes. I don’t miss _storms_ at all. But like… you know… just… _rain?_ A light drizzle or something? The way it sounds when it hits canvas. The way it pricks at your core just… like little pins ‘n needles? And the _smell?”_

Grillby sighed out a curling breath of smoke, “I’d drown myself in Waterfall just to _smell_ it. But all Waterfall smells like is wet garbage ‘n… I dunno. Rocks. A lot of rocks.”

“Miss the breeze too,” Gaster hummed, finishing his own drink and slamming the glass haphazardly on the table, “And just… _open_. It’s claustrophobic as hell down here. Everything’s got a fuck’n ceiling now.”

“Sunsets,” Grillby added, “Those were pretty nice.”

“Yeah those were good,” Gaster agreed.

“Frost,” Grillby drawled, staring down at his glass and trying to decide if he should finish it off again - which he did, if for no other reason than to see the changing colors, “Or those really thin wispy clouds. Sky angels or whatever you call ‘em.”

“ _Seasons_ ,” Gaster said with a dreamy sigh, “Watching trees bud in spring? Or… or watching wheat fields turn yellow? Plants are just cool like that, y’know?”

“Being someplace so high you can see where the horizon starts to turn white.”

“Those weird red flowers that always grew where battlefields were.”

“Knowing a monster came from somewhere you’d never been just because of how they _talked_.”

“Like… the eight thousand languages people used to speak.”

“Spices from countries you couldn’t even pronounce.”

“Those crazy old sailors who talked about like… giant water dragons ‘n shit.”

Grillby crackled a miserable laugh, “Sitting in the sun and feeling _warm_. _Gods_ I miss the sun.”

“The moon,” Gaster sighed, his voice starting to quiver, “ _Shit_. The _stars_ Grillby. I miss _the stars_.”

He reached his skeletal hand up towards the ceiling, tracing shapes that didn’t exist anymore. Grillby watched his hand move, mesmerized and miserable.

“Constellations,” Gaster rambled, his voice getting tense and shuddering, “There was… like... D-draco. And. Orion. And… Polaris the North Star. And like… how you could tell a planet from a star because… stars kinda flicker a little and… and if you stare long enough you can… you can tell they’re all different colors and…”

Gaster let his arm drop limply into his lap, his ribcage moving in a tired sob, “And I’m gonna… d-die down here before I ev-ever see the stars again…!”

Gaster slumped forward onto the table, crying pitifully, “ _We’re gonna die down here.”_

Grillby sighed, gulping down the tightness in his own chest. _Fuck_. This happened every year - last year it had been Grillby sobbing on the table first, crying about ‘all those fuck’n nightmares he had for nothing, goddamnit, _why’_. Really they should know better than this by now. But here they were again, just like they were every year. Pining away over a fate they couldn’t change.

Grillby wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders, “Hey, we’re gonna make it through this.”

“Yeah fuck’n right,” came the whining, dramatic answer, “We’re gonna turn to dust Grillby.”

“I mean… that would’ve happened anyway.”

This earned him a sloppy backhand across the shoulder and a tear-streaked glare from Gaster, “You know what I mean, _smartass_.”

He stabbed his hand towards the bottle they’d been pouring all night, and by some miracle of reflexes Grillby snatched it up first.

“Nope!” the elemental chimed patronizingly, “You’re being cut off.”

“Oh no, somebody help, he’s using his _official bartender voice_ ,” Gaster spat with a dramatic roll of his eyes before reaching for the bottle again, “Well tough luck! Yer fancy mom voice doesn’t work on me. Now _gimme that_.”

“Nop, you are too drunk sir, I cannot!” Grillby laughed, shoving Gaster back with one hand and holding away the bottle with his other. He was _way_ off-balance, and wondering how long it would take for Gaster to realize once he stood up he would _definitely_ be tall enough to outreach the shorter elemental.

But Gaster just hiccuped a miserable laugh instead, “Excuse _me?_ _You sir_ are _also_ drunk!”

“Yes but _I’m_ not doing the _weepy drunk_ thing,” Grillby chided, “And _you are_.”

That was when Grillby’s foot slipped - the only thing keeping his dramatic lean away from Gaster _a lean_ instead of a headlong tumble - and with a shriek he fell out of the booth, Gaster falling with him when his support was gone. The bottle went rolling - it was a matter of luck that it didn’t shatter. For a few seconds the two of them laughed from where they had fallen on the ground, quieting slowly to giggles, and then to silence.

“We should go home.”

“You are… indeed really correct, sir,” Gaster said with a final giggle, “We should go home.”

Then his teeth clenched back into a frown, “... that’s another thing I’ll ever see again.”

Grillby tilted his head to the side, watching as his flame reflected wickedly against one of the cracks in Gaster’s skull.

“I’ll never see my hometown again,” Gaster said, his voice getting quieter with every word, “I’ll… never get to visit my parents’ graves or… show any kids I have where I grew up or… you know… do… _home_ things.”

Grillby sighed and tottered to his feet, “Okay come on, we’re leaving.”

“I don’t wanna.”

Grillby ignored the skeleton, dragging him to his feet anyway, much to Gaster’s whining chagrin.

“Come on,” the elemental insisted, “You are bad drunk. We said last year we weren’t doing bad drunk again.”

Gaster gave a half-hearted giggle, “Too late.”

Leaning against each other, the two struggled outside into the snow. Grillby didn’t bother locking up. His hands were a little too shaky and his vision a little too wobbly to bother trying to turn a key through a keyhole. He doubted anyone in Snowdin would bother stealing from him anyway - and even if they _did,_ he had nothing of real value other than booze, which he could care less about losing right now.

The two swerved and swaggered, sometimes mumbling, sometimes laughing. Twice Grillby almost fell into the snow and felt the sting of cold and wet tug annoyingly at his hp. _God_ it was troublesome being made of fire in a snowscape. He offered to walk Gaster home like any good, sensible drunk should, to which the skeleton protested profusely.

“But _Waterfall_ Grillby!” he’d gasped with a loud whisper, “Water is _bad_ for you. I don’t want you to _dieeee!”_

“I’m not going to die in Waterfall.”

“ _Waterfall Grillbyyyyyy….!”_

Oh well. Grillby didn’t really feel like spending the rest of the night alone anyway. It would be nice just to have someone else in his house. So he set Gaster up with a glass of water and some blankets on the couch, and Grillby curled up on the couch beside him. They talked until both of them fell asleep, Grillby doing his best to steer the conversation away from thoughts that were _too_ miserable.

The next morning Grillby awoke sprawled out on the floor with Gaster hovering over him, telling him to wake up _wake up please!_ The nightmare was colors and haze before Grillby could completely grasp what it had been about, but the smoke on the ceiling and the burns on the floor said it had been a bad one. Gaster said Grillby had been screaming in his sleep.

Gaster called into work for a second day in a row, nursing a migraine and self-loathing. Grillby kept the bar closed, hardly managing to put up a ‘sorry for the inconvenience’ notice before his first patrons knocked on the door.

The next day was back to business as usual. Time for Gaster and Grillby to pretend everything was normal.

Except Grillby was still holding onto their conversation, clinging to the words that were said. Gods, they really needed to stop doing this. The war was _over_. They should have moved on by now, accepted their fate and started coping. But both of them were still having nightmares and regrets. Both of them were still scared and alone even in each other’s company. They were messy and stupid and… so many things they shouldn’t be.

And Gaster still missed the stars.

After work that day, Grillby donned a long coat, snatched up an umbrella and started walking. He had his soul set on something now, and he refused to let it go until it was done. He needed to finish something now, while he was still feeling impulsive and strong. But first he needed some help.


	2. The Peace of What's Left

Waterfall was a pain, both literally and figuratively. It was _much_ worse than Snowdin, Grillby had to admit. But at least in Snowdin most of his hazard stayed on the ground. In Waterfall, Grillby was absolutely and _completely_ surrounded by the element that wanted to kill him. Even the _air itself_ was saturated with water. It burned at his throat when he breathed it in, gathered in condensation on his glasses, dripped and splashed from the ceiling and hummed around every turned corner. And it was _dark_ , not something Grillby was _too_ bothered by until it was combined with _wet_. The entire atmosphere of Waterfall left him feeling nervous and jumpy. He constantly felt like he was going to waltz into his death, even if he were perfectly balanced on some path away from the river.

But he _had_ to go through here. He had to see Gerson.

So Grillby walked, minding his step and occasionally flinching away from local monsters. They all tended to use water magic, and Grillby didn’t want to accidentally startle any of them into using that magic on _him_.

Gerson’s house-turned-shop was deep in the Waterfall caverns, where the trash from above the mountain fell down and collected. Grillby was forced to brave several bridges and water-strewn paths to get there. But it was a sigh of relief to finally enter the crystal-filled sanctuary. Gerson’s face lit up when Grillby entered.

“Well aren’t you a surprise!” he’d laughed heartily, standing up to greet the elemental when he entered, “What the hell are you doing all the way on _my_ side of the Underground?”

Grillby had laughed and offered the monster an embrace, “Oh you know, sometimes I just need to put some danger in my life.”

Gerson laughed at this, breaking away from him, “ _I’ll_ say. Putting yourself through a lot for a little adventure aren’t you?”

Grillby flickered a smirk, “Well… actually I’m here for a bit more than an adventure.”

This put a spark in the turtle monster’s eye, and he flashed Grillby a shrewd grin, “Oh really?”

“Yes,” Grillby said with a quiet smile, “I… doubt you’d have it but… I didn’t think it’d hurt to ask… I’m looking for star charts.”

“ _Star charts?”_ Gerson said with an incredulous _tut!_ “Boy we’re a little far underground for stargazing, not sure if you’ve noticed.”

“Yeah, I know,” Grillby chuckled regretfully, “I just… well… I was hoping on making something for someone and… star charts would help.”

To this, Gerson frowned thoughtfully, “Well… I _definitely_ don’t have any of those. It’s not something humans throw away too often, I’ll bet.”

“Right,” Grillby said with a tired sigh, “Well, thanks anyway.”

“Now you hold on a minute,” Gerson said, raising one of his eyebrows, “I might have _something_ that’ll help. Give me a bit to look around - help yourself to some tea if you like!”

With that Gerson bustled off, leaving Grillby to sit behind the counter and watch, sipping away at a cup of tea. It was _good_ , a special recipe of Gerson’s, and it felt refreshing to the soul.

Watching Gerson work was… sobering. Being a turtle monster, Gerson aged much slower than most other monsters did but… still not nearly as slowly as Grillby did - if Grillby even aged at all. There was a stiffness in Gerson’s movements, a catch in his breath as he exerted himself rifling through his boxes of collected junk. There was a smoothness in his shell that showed the weathering that came from passing time, a greyness to what had once been vibrant color.

Grillby was very jarringly reminded of how stranded in time he was.

Finally Gerson came back, toting with him a small armful of things. He laid them out on the counter in front of Grillby, smiling excitedly.

“Alright! Here’s what I have! Take a look.”

Well, it certainly wasn’t star charts, but it was definitely _something_. One was a worn, beaten old book, written in someone’s scrawling handwriting. Some of the ink was smudged from water, but Grillby could still make out a good amount of the words. It was talking about the sky, mostly about planets, and which ones showed this time of year. Next was a small globe poked full of holes. It was empty inside, missing some apparatus for a light. But when Grillby lit the inside it projected little specs of light around the room. These were the only two things out of the pile that Grillby ended up taking. He smiled and gave Gerson the gold he asked for, as long and laughing a happy - _come by the bar sometime and I’ll give you a free drink._

When he was home he set to work, first pouring through what of the book he could read and then lighting the globe in his living room. It did a good job of projecting light but… that was all it was. Dead, sometimes faltering light that flickered out whenever Grillby wasn’t concentrating enough. The globe itself was made of a weak material called _plastic_ that had been showing up in the Underground more and more lately. Grillby had learned pretty quickly that it didn’t take to fire very well, and he was loathe to melt the only key he had to anything involving the sky - the sky that he was realizing slowly that he couldn’t remember all that well. It had… been too long.

But with this writer’s description and this fragment of a map… Grillby thought it could make something brilliant. Practicing it was tedious. There was intricate smallness in what Grillby wanted to accomplish. It took control and precision on his part, an exercise in magic that his body wasn’t used to in a world where fire magic was hardly ever helpful. But he could do this. For Gaster, he _would_ do this.

It was a week before Grillby told Gaster very seriously when the two walked to the bar that morning, “Come back after your shift at the labs today. I have something to show you.”

“Heh, I dunno Grillby,” Gaster answered, frowning pensively, “We’ve got a deadline coming up. I might be staying the night over -”

“No, you’re coming back here tonight,” Grillby had said forcefully, “ _Please_. I need to show you something.”

Gaster had watched him worriedly then. Grillby didn’t normally sound urgent, but right now he sort of _did_ , and Gaster had no idea why. But he also didn’t argue any further.

Grillby kicked his patrons out early that night. He needed _time_ to _prepare_ before Gaster got there. He needed this to be perfect.

Grillby moved all the tables and chairs out of the main barroom and turned every light low. Then he sat in the center of the room, that little globe in his hands, and flushed it full of light. For every point of light it made on the ceiling, the walls, Grillby released a spark and sent it there. Flickering and small, on the verge of burning out, on the very edge of Grillby’s magic. Every new spark he released, he felt a tension growing in his soul. A little piece of exhaustion building in the pit of his stomach. But he kept releasing sparks. Dozens turned to hundreds, diamonds of light decorating every point they could reach.

And when they were all in place, Grillby started turning them. He flushed some brighter, others duller, doing his best to remember all the writer had said about what stars and planets looked like and why some were bigger and brighter. They all flickered a bit - it was the nature of fire, and Grillby didn’t have quite the skill to change that. But he _did_ manage to change some of their colors. Subtle reds and blues and yellows wove their way into the hundreds of scattered lights. Just putting them up there left Grillby breathless and tired. Holding them made him dizzy.

 _But it’s worth it_ , Grillby thought, even as his own flame started to flicker lower and duller, _this will definitely be worth it_.

He was too afraid they would all flicker out if he moved, so Grillby stayed where he sat on the ground, waiting until Gaster arrived. Grillby waited for what felt like hours, subtly shaking as he held everything in place. Just a little bit longer… _just a little longer_.

At last the door cracked open, and before Gaster could even open it all the way Grillby barked.

“ _Don’t look at the ceiling for the love of god please!”_

Gaster had flinched, but he kept his gaze trained on the ground at his feet, “Okay okay! Sure! … Why?”

“Just _please_ do it!” Grillby said with a tense flicker, “And hurry up and get over here!”

Gaster jolted inside, and just the breeze from the opened door nearly blew out a dozen of Grillby’s precious sparks. Grillby closed his eyes and hunched his shoulders, as if that could somehow help him control the little sparks any more. Grillby heard Gaster’s shoes as he briskly paced towards him.

“Are you… are you _okay?”_

“Shh! Shhh! Yes I’m _fine_ ,” Grillby snapped back, “Lay on the floor.”

“ _Grillby?”_

“ _Do it,”_ Grillby insisted, “And close your eyes _do not look at the ceiling_.”

“ _Okay!”_

Gaster settled beside him, using Grillby’s shoulder as a guide and keeping his eye sockets closed. Grillby let him lie there for a few seconds, a small flicker of a smile growing in his flame.

“Comfortable?”

“ _And nervous!”_ Gaster said with an incredulous laugh, “What is _going on?”_

“Open your eyes and find out.”

Gaster did, first to glare at Grillby and then… and then to look up in _amazement_. A breath bloomed in the skeleton’s ribcage and snagged there, wonder catching the breath up short. He reached a hand up to Grillby’s shoulder, gripping the fabric of the elemental’s shirt fervently.

“Grillby… is that… is that _you?”_

“Yeah.”

“You made… you… aha…”

Gaster’s hand slipped away to his face and he was laughing. Laughing and crying.

“They’re _stars.”_

Grillby grinned, pride swelling in his chest. _He’d done it right_.

“Yeah I… I wanted to try.”

“You wanted to _try?”_ Gaster laughed incredulously, his voice cracking from emotion, wiping hurriedly at the tears running down his face, “You made… you made _stars_ Grillby!”

The elemental let out a tense breath. _Hold it for a little longer_.

“Tell me about them. Everything you know.”

Gaster didn’t need told twice. He started talking, rattling off everything he could possibly remember. That constellation! I know that one it’s Orion! This is actually… I bet it’s the wrong time of year for it but its there! How did you make all the stars even the belt - and there’s the two bears! You see there’s a story for them! And that one has a story as well. That bright one there, that’s supposed to be a planet, _Mars_ I think it’s called. You… it’s red. How did you make it red?

Gaster’s tears and laughter cycled back to wonder as he spoke. He pointed and talked and Grillby listened as best he could while holding his tiny world of stars in place. His vision was _really_ starting to tilt now, he was feeling so tired he was nauseous. But even still he wanted to hold those stars there forever. He wanted Gaster to be like this forever. He wanted Gaster to be _happy_. He didn’t want him to be miserable anymore. He just… he just wanted…

Grillby passed out, and when he did every spark in his fabricated sky flickered into nothingness. He wasn’t out for long - just long enough for Gaster to have a small panic attack screaming his name and trying to wake him up. Grillby tried to brush it off but Gaster was having _none of it_. He helped the exhausted elemental into a seat and ran about the bar trying to find him something to eat or drink that would actually be _helpful_.

Grillby curled up in the booth, his back against the wall, sipping away at a warm tea while Gaster glared him down.

“Why didn’t you _tell me to stop talking_ you _moron?”_ Gaster asked angrily, “You can’t just use your magic up like that!”

“It was worth it,” Grillby smiled tiredly back, “ _Very_ worth it.”

“It was _not_ ,” Gaster said with a harsh laugh, “You _passed out!”_

Grillby chuckled, “We should do it again sometime.”

“Are you even _listening to me?”_

No. Really he wasn’t. Grillby was too busy remembering how Gaster’s face had lit up, how he’d talked with so much fervor and happiness. How enraptured he’d been by the many twinkling lights.

It was worth it.

Gaster helped Grillby home, letting the elemental use him as a crutch as they shambled back to his house. Gaster walked him up the stairs, even though by then Grillby had mostly recovered. He just felt tired now, like he could sleep for ages if someone let him. There was an empty pit in his chest where his magic should be. Before he left, Gaster paused by the doorway and sighed.

“... Thank you… for that.”

Grillby flickered a small smile, and Gaster continued, watching the elemental with an exhausted sort of fondness, “I… you have no idea how much that means to me. I never thought I’d see anything like that again.”

“You’re welcome.”

Gaster sighed and smiled, looking very much like he might start crying again, “Just… give me a time limit or something next time, moron. I’d rather have you alive and well than any stupid stars.”

Grillby chuckled, “Sure thing.”

With a final goodbye, Gaster left. Grillby sighed and laid back in his bed, not even bothering to change out of his work clothes. He could sleep through anything now, he figured. He slept dreamlessly, grateful for a few minutes’ peace. The next morning, Gaster met Grillby like he always did and together they walked to the bar. All they talked about were stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 4am but I'm really, really happy this is finished. Ahaha I'll probably regret not spending more time to edit this later but... it's mostly just a glorified one-shot so I think I'll be fine with how it turned out.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the read!

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% inspired by the 7 minutes I was a pathetically weepy drunk over Thanksgiving, because if I have to feel pain, so does everyone else goddamnit. 
> 
> But at least these guys get a happy ending.


End file.
